It Started With a Whimper

Last night, I cried, just how I used to when I was small.

I was always so sensitive, back then.

(I still am, though I try keep my upset quiet;

You know, like when that knot forms in your throat?

And it feels like you're going to burst wide open??)

I knew adults had my best interest in mind, but at reprimand, 

It started with a whimper.

And crescendoed to a shoulder-shaking

Sobbing sort of roar.

I never wanted to make anyone mad. 

I never wanted to be a bad kid.

I still don't want to, I still don't want to be.

I'm okay now, though. 

I'm okay.

My pillow ate my worries like it eats my dreams.

Get Him a Heart of His Own

You've got a clumsy tongue coated in cliche!!

It's enough though, just enough to seduce.

Our mouths are filled with nearly the same words. 

I like to think myself ELOQUENT, at least. 

You? Barely literate. 

I pity us both, because nobody can win in the end.

Lone Wolf, Maybe?

... It feels great, being friends; I mean, at least when you're nearby. But sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. Because the times that it doesn't feel great, the times when you're not around and you don't even care to talk to me or ask how I am or see if I want to hang out or whatever? Those times especially SUCK.

I start thinking too much. It's stupid. You've told me you care about me and all that; I shouldn't be insecure. It's just that it seems like after only a couple months, you care about someone else so much more than you ever cared about me. You take their words to heart. You spend all your time talking to them. They're so SPECIAL to you.

I've realized by now that I'm not that cool of a person. I'm not the best at conversation. I'm awkward and I have this love/hate relationship with humankind and I don't know that much about anything. I'm... Meh. You could easily live without me. Nobody NEEDS me. Especially not you.

I want to move far away and live in a park and be someone else and lie about my name. And forget everyone. Especially you.

Progressively More Frustrated, Less Enchanted

I've got five more months. Five more months of Bible tests. Five more months of chapel days. Five more months of "spiritual application." I've got five more months of raising my hand for "right answers." Five more months of frowning at the "sinners." Five more months of your stifling expectation; "Has the indoctrination set in yet? Is she ready for the world?"

I'm not bitter. I think it's great, to believe in something so wholeheartedly you want it to be your LIFE, your EVERYTHING, your DEFINITION. It'd be great if I could believe like that, really.

But I'm just a person. I'm not a Christian. I'm just a person with an old label. I forget what it means anymore. I'm just a person.

I don't hate God. I don't hate you. I don't hate much, in general. I hate faking it. But I don't hate "it," really. I wish I could have faith like you. All the best people are somewhat delusional, hmm.

So I'm just a doubting Thomas. But Thomas had proof. Thomas KNEW that guy. Thomas stuck his hands in the holes. Thomas saw him alive, then saw him dead, then saw him alive. I see nothing.

Actually, I'm okay with all of that, really. I don't need proof. I like Jesus. He was a good dude. Though maybe he wasn't. If he's the same as God...? God is sorta a jerk. I'm sorta a blasphemer. It's cool, though.

How's hell this time of year? ... Yah, I expected as much. It's okay, really. I hope I don't drag anyone down with me, though, so let's FAKE IT until we die. I'm sorry, brother, sister. Don't listen to me anymore. Forget what I said, and save yourselves.

Brother, you used to be such a good kid. (I don't think you're all that bad now, either.) I'm sorry for setting an unholy rebel example all this time. (Or whatever example I set. That was sarcastic. Sorry.) Now you have questions, too. I wish you could have lived forever in happy faith (or delusion. Or whatever this all is.) You're so BLESSED. (That still means something, right? I haven't entirely turned you into a heathen, have I?)

Sister, you're so sweet and innocent. (I'm not.) You're so good. (I'm not.) We're too alike, though. (I mean, I used to be sweet, innocent, and good, too.) Don't lose it, because you'll never get it back. I pray (to something) you don't become like me. You're so BLESSED.

... When did I start to question? When did I lose it? When did "blessed" start to simply mean optimistic? Christians with their glass half full... They're so BLESSED.

Come on, kids, it's time for church.

Join the Club; Don't Talk About the Club

I want thin walls

I want to hear flaw

I want to hear ugly

Loud and raucous and dissonant

Secrets screamed in apartment buildings

There are sounds that belong to

The women in robes seen at the mailboxes

With pleasant smiling faces

And kids peeking out from behind numbered doors, waiting

There are sounds that belong to

The men who lock their silver cars at night

Who offer waves and head nods 

And pleasantries of the civilized, of the acquaintance

Static speakers nearly breaking, playing

Louder than ever before

Because she's left him

And she's left him wanting to go deaf.

Shrill wives and gruff husbands

Raising hell about the bank account 

Or the kids

Or the mistress.

SEX. 

Family fights 

Waged so often

When the guests are gone

When painted faces are washed, masks removed.

Love, hate, misery, everything

I want to spy with my ears

I want to know you're all as 

Pitiful, as dirty, as hopeless as me

Meh. Eighteen is still teen after all.

"Vintage" in a thrift store, 

Let's fool some hipster buyer.

...

I need to meet new people. 

Maybe we'll connect this time. 

.......

God, it's lonely to be average and unlovely.

I used to like the snow and the night

It was cold and dark and lonesome... And I don't know why, but I started crying.

I hear I can be good company.

I would love it if you'd talk to me.

Just a little deeper.

Just a little truer.

No, I don't always have answers.

Just trust me, just let me listen.

I would love it if you'd touch me.

Just a little closer.

Just a little warmer.

No, not in a weird way.

Just sweetly, just to be near.

I would love it if you'd miss me.
Just ask me to come.
Just invite yourself over.
No, I'm not busy; I'm never busy.
Just waiting, just feeling lonely.

I'd like to be the sort of friend who can crash in your bed and be told only honesty and raid your fridge and borrow your stuff and cuddle and chat with your family and be there when you're sick of everyone else and...

...and expect the same out of you.

How are friendships supposed to be?

There Are People and These Are Words

When I try to talk to you, it's probably because I'm upset, or because I miss you, or because I need to remember why all these things in life are worth it. It's not like I want to be trouble. Even if I'm lying the whole time, it's better than being alone, so I won't even bother you with my problems. I'll tell you I'm doing fine, just please don't shut up.

I don't dislike you because you're a bad person... I dislike you because I'm a bad person. Everything you do gets on my nerves, and I realize now it's not my business. You make her feel better than I can. I don't know why. But that's the way it is. I'm not going to say I can like you, and I don't agree with the way you've handled things so far... But I'm going to try to back off and watch things happen however they may. Is it too late for that?

If one of us were a guy or something like that, I'd definitely date you. Well, I'd probably date you now, but I don't think you'd be into that... Anyway, you're pretty cool... So...

I don't know many guys like you. You're really nice and you've got great style. I like your shoes a lot. I like that jacket you always wear. You have a nice laugh. I hope you meet somebody nice.

You're the sweetest girl around. You're the only one who tried to understand, the only one who ever brought it up again and told me it was okay to wonder... I wish I could see you more. I'm afraid that after we graduate this June, we're going to lose track of each other, and I really don't want that to happen.

Can you two please stop fighting? The silence after is so awkward. I try to make a joke, but nobody will laugh. Laugh like always...

I wonder sometimes if you even believe all of those friendships are worth something. I wonder if all those pretty words you have to say come from someplace real or not. I wonder what parts of you are honest when I see you in a crowd. Maybe it's because you've already confessed your struggles and flaws to me, but... I think you don't have to pretend to have it all together. People love you, okay? You can let perfection go.

I don't really "like" anybody, but I've never liked anyone as much as I like you.

We don't know each other, but you two, you twins, your music makes me feel like maybe somebody could understand. You do a good thing. You're good, beautiful people.

I really like you as a person. But... Since the beginning of the year, I lack like for you as a teacher. I mean, I respect your position and it's not like I'll misbehave. The rest of the seniors, though... Well, maybe your students would keep quiet and like your class if you hadn't screamed at us for most of first quarter.

You're not fat. Period.

Hey, you. You're a great kid. I'm glad you're finally done wasting your time on a girl who doesn't get it. You're fun. You should come around more often.

When I was younger, I was sort of jealous of your other family. I miss you. I wish you could belong to just us, and that would make it easier. But now I understand some more things. You've got a lot of people who love and miss you too, and you can't be just mine.

I don't support your decision, but I think I can finally let it go and just be there for you.

I don't know if I believe in you any more. I mean, I think I sort of believe in you... I just... Maybe it's more like... I don't know what parts to believe anymore. I'm trying to figure it out and make this thing my own. You know everything already, but... Just thought I'd be consciously up front about it here.

Watching 500 Days of Summer makes me feel dishonest...
I have things to say, and these are just some of them...
But it's better than a greeting card, right?

Never Enough.

"I remember the way you looked in red; I wondered if I was going crazy when I thought maybe you could love me too. I see now I have most definitely gone mad."

I was always right there.

Secrets

And after that night I heard you call him "creepy" for swinging both ways? I realized I could never be honest with you; I could never give you a chance to judge me. I love you, and I wish I knew you could love me no matter what, too.

Research Paper

All these pictures of dying women, bones protruding from pale-paper skin...
If I simply put my hands on their hips, I could break them,
Though they call this strength.
Their brittle bodies will give under the weight of their obsession.
It will never be enough.
And the terrible thing is, I catch myself thinking maybe they've found beauty...

Dear Everybody,

I'm sorry. I'm not good at being the supportive friend. I've tried that, only to see break-ups and screw-ups and ends. I can support your dreams. I can cheer you on in anything, be by your side through everything. But I'm not the best at trusting a stranger with something as special as you, something as precious as your heart. It's not that I don't think you're smart enough to make your own choices. I just really hate to see you cry.

I'm trying to work on this, because someday you are gonna find someone real and it still won't matter what I say; I suppose it shouldn't matter what I say.

Maybe I need to stop being such a cynic. Love isn't for me, but I hope you find it, find someone who will never make you cry.

(It's me that seems to be the problem...)

Mostly, life is alright, not too bad.
Sure, even the little things create this conflict internally.
But outside, no, it's not too bad.

My Dear is a Darling, Bought by Everyone I Know

Let's all compliment her; she'll deny it, but hidden, her ego grows inside. 

Let's all adore her; she'll enjoy it but forget it when loneliness attacks at night. 

Let's all praise her; she needs it to make her feel okay, but she'll always need more.

Let's all sleep with her! She'll feel so desired, but in the morning she'll wake up a whore.

There is no pleasing the proudly insecure.

There is no love in return.

There is no putting her pieces back together. 

There is no love.

There is no love.